Too many. 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. “This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. “Because I hate you!” She spat. “It really is not necessary. You're easy to please. " "What happened?" Ah Cum recounted the story of the sing-song girl.
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