CHAPTER XV. “Bless you, sweetheart. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. But it was not so ordered. At length, when he saw no escape from the inevitable, he took the four title pages from the manuscripts and typed new ones, substituting Taber for Spurlock. I’ll go after them and kill him. John knew everybody, it seemed. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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