Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. ” The official had no more to say. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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