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Corelli, Marie, 1855-1924

"Thelma"

Nobody knows what they
are saying: they scarcely know themselves--but it's all right, and quite
fashionable."
Thelma laughed gaily. "How funny!" she exclaimed. "It is to amuse
people, I suppose! Well,--now listen." And, playing a soft prelude, her
rich contralto rippled forth in a tender, passionate, melancholy
melody,--so sweet and heart-penetrating that the practical Macfarlane
sat as one in a dream,--Duprez forgot to finish making the cigarette he
was daintily manipulating between his fingers, and Lorimer had much ado
to keep tears from his eyes. From one song she glided to another and yet
another; her soul seemed possessed by the very spirit of music.
Meanwhile Errington, in obedience to an imperative sign from old
Gueldmar, left the saloon, with him,--once outside the doors the _bonde_
said in a somewhat agitated voice--
"I desire to speak to you, Sir Philip, alone and undisturbed, if such a
thing be possible."
"By all means!" answered Philip. "Come to my 'den' on deck.


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