Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. ‘I have the means to compel you. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat.
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