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. “I ought never have gone to the Zoo, I suppose. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye.
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