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Her fingers trembled over the keys, he could see dimly the shadow of her long lashes, and the spirit-like scent of crushed violets rose to him from the soft lace about her throat and her hair. "It is your music," he whispered. "I have never heard the Boat Song like that!" He tried to drag his eyes from her face and hair, sensing that he was a near-criminal, fighting a mighty impulse.
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