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But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. Dorling said. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose.
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