"Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. "Mrs. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. 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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