Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. ‘Yes, miss. 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. “Have you turned him yet?” Michelle whispered hotly, trying not to raise the volume of her voice.
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