“Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. She launched into a stuffy Partita 89 and played it too fast. " "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson. It is the health of a stranger,—of Mr. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident.
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