John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. That's a most damnable lie; and when she finds out, 'tis then she will not forgive.
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