November 27, 2016

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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he jtnm

swung his head and p4jtnm began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. 4jtnm He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms

with slight, intense movements, as tnm the delicate music tnm poured out. It v2rkp4jnm 2rkp4jtm was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid

and delicate. jtnm The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity kp4jtnm p4jtnm of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,

exasperatedto the point of intolerable tnm anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,

in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent 2rkp4jtm appeared kp4jtnm in the room. She fidgetted at the

sink. The music was jtnm a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.

She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are v2rkp4jnm tnm you going out?” She twisted nervously.

“What do you want to know for?” He made tnm no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet â€" then tnm over it again â€" then jtnm more closely over it jtnm again.

“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were 4jtnm angry under knitted brows. “What are v2rkp4jnm jtnm you bothering about?” he 2rkp4jtm said.

“I’m not bothering â€" I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I kp4jtnm expect I am,” he said quietly.

She recovered at 4jtnm once, but still 2rkp4jtm with jtnm timidity asked: “We haven’t got any jtnm candles for the Christmas tree â€" shall you buy some, because mother

isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling v2rkp4jnm his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes â€" shall you buy 4jtnm us v2rkp4jnm v2rkp4jnm some, Father? Shall tnm you?”

“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo 4jtnm to his mouth and blowing a few v2rkp4jnm piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles 4jtnm â€" blue tnm ones and red

ones, in boxes â€" Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see â€" if I see any â€"” “But SHALL p4jtnm you?” she insisted jtnm desperately. She jtnm wisely mistrusted his vagueness.

But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, p4jtnm shrill, brilliant. He kp4jtnm was playing Mozart. The child’s

face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went jtnm out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music 2rkp4jtm seemed to

possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man jtnm went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. kp4jtnm In the frosty evening the kp4jtnm sound carried.

people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and v2rkp4jnm .