He was nearly wincing. 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 broken out of the cage, Jack?" "Something like it," replied the lad carelessly. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet.
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