The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body.
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