She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. He was an odd one, especially for a young man. ‘Which presupposes that she needs to hide at all. I got a rusty bolt cutter.
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