As he was leaving the hotel, Ah Cum stepped up to his side. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. "Ruth?" he called. Besides the table close by loaded with books, there was a central table with upright chairs around, covered in a multitude of papers, inks and quills, and assorted unrelated items such as playing cards. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on.
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