Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. He was daring enough to have seized and carried him off before the whole congregation, but he preferred waiting. " "Perhaps I read of it somewhere.
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