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And down here below every single thing made this harp resound in its own peculiar fashion, and in turn it again took up its own melody. Under the green fingers of the leaves the crystal strings sounded faint and hollow. It was as though it were the voice of the soul of the mists. The clay under their touch sobbed like an adolescent girl into whom the south wind has long blown inquietude.

"You dig for that kind, and they are not numerous, so's 'at you can smash 'em for fun." "Well, I can try to get one, anyway," said Mrs. Comstock. "I forgot all about bringing anything to put them in. You take a pinch on their wings until I make a poke." Mrs. Comstock removed her apron, tearing off the strings. She unfastened and stepped from the skirt of her calico dress.

He pushed the violin patronizingly into Tony's brown hands. The Italian took it, oh, so lovingly, and, with an apologetic glance at Mr. Watlin, he tuned the strings to a different pitch. Anita climbed to the back of his neck. Then came music, flooding, trickling, laughing, from the bow of Tony! Italy you could see; and little, half-naked children, playing in the sleepy street!

"You shall have your revenge to-night," answered Contarini, rising. "I am expected at a friend's house at this hour." His large wallet was so full of gold that he could hardly draw the strong silken strings together and tie them. "A friend's house!" laughed Loredan, who had lost somewhat less than the others. "It would give us much delight to know the colour of the lady's hair!"

But he wasn't as handsome as Raymond, nor as nice even if he did wear a uniform. When they reached the Bonners they saw it all illumined for the party. The Bonners' house was big and square with a porch running round three sides, the most imposing house in Cherryvale. Already strings of lanterns were lighted on the lawn, blue and red and yellow orbs.

His studs and kennels and strings of polo ponies were famous. He was a polo-player well above the average and an aviator not far below it. Pete Murphy, the fifth of the group, was the delight of them all. He lived by writing magazine articles. Also he wrote fiction, verse, and drama. Also he was a painter. Also he was a musician. In short, he was an Irishman.

Idly I touch the strings, till, without my knowing, the music borrows the mad cadence of that storm. I see her figure as she steals from her work, stops at my door, and retreats with hesitating steps. She comes again, stands outside leaning against the wall, then slowly enters the room and sits down.

Tracy had the best reason for believing her intelligence was true, and she could see very little cause for regarding it as dreadful. True, one son would have been enough for this wealthy Indian heiress but still it was no harm to have two strings to her bow.

I, being present at this consult, dissuaded those who were for removing things from their present settled order, and who thought this variety as unsuitable to the solemnity as many strings and many notes to an instrument.

The room still showed remains of luxury and elegance a disemboweled piano with clusters of protruding strings; a cupboard, dislodged and rotting, as though disinterred; a white-powdered floor, sown with golden stripes and rumpled books, and with fragile débris which cried out when we trod on it.