Yet she never once thought of changing it. For freedom at least. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. " CHAPTER V. We leave this room together.
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