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"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. She did not forge a note. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. "What would my poor mother say to it?" "I was sorry to see that about your mother, Jack," observed Hogarth. “Well?” she said. ” “Exactly! And so you came along to me.
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