Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. “His back was towards me,” Anna said. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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