[92310] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Personal loan as soon as tomorrow
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Zippy Loan)
Sat Nov 19 19:32:21 2016
Date: Sat, 19 Nov 2016 19:26:31 -0500
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: Zippy Loan <zippyloan@zippyloanb.bid>
Reply-to: Zippy Loan <zippyloan@zippyloanb.bid>
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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he 1wc4
swung his head and 8s1wc4 began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. s1wc4 He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as wc4 the delicate music wc4 poured out. It kn6r8s1c4 n6r8s1w4 was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. 1wc4 The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity r8s1wc4 8s1wc4 of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable wc4 anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent n6r8s1w4 appeared r8s1wc4 in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was 1wc4 a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are kn6r8s1c4 wc4 you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made wc4 no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then wc4 over it again — then 1wc4 more closely over it 1wc4 again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were s1wc4 angry under knitted brows. “What are kn6r8s1c4 1wc4 you bothering about?” he n6r8s1w4 said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I r8s1wc4 expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at s1wc4 once, but still n6r8s1w4 with 1wc4 timidity asked: “We haven’t got any 1wc4 candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling kn6r8s1c4 his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy s1wc4 us kn6r8s1c4 kn6r8s1c4 some, Father? Shall wc4 you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo s1wc4 to his mouth and blowing a few kn6r8s1c4 piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles s1wc4 — blue wc4 ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL 8s1wc4 you?” she insisted 1wc4 desperately. She 1wc4 wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, 8s1wc4 shrill, brilliant. He r8s1wc4 was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went 1wc4 out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music n6r8s1w4 seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man 1wc4 went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. r8s1wc4 In the frosty evening the r8s1wc4 sound carried.
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and kn6r8s1c4 .
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<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">him. Then he<B>rocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. And</B>then at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he b1v6 </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and nib1v6 began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. ib1v6 He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"></span>
<p align="right">with slight, intense movements, as 1v6 the delicate music 1v6 poured out. It zu4lnibv6 u4lnib16 was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p></p>
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<p align="right">and delicate. b1v6 The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity lnib1v6 nib1v6 of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense, </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
exasperated<i>to the point of intolerable 1v6 anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played the</i>finely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it, </p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 12px;">
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent u4lnib16 appeared lnib1v6 in the room. She fidgetted at the </p>
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sink. The music was b1v6 a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets. </p>
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<p align="left" style="font: 13px;"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are zu4lnibv6 1v6 you going out?” She twisted nervously. </p>
<BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 9px;"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="right">“What do you want to know for?” He made 1v6 no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then 1v6 over it again — then b1v6 more closely over it b1v6 again. </p>
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<p align="left"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 12px;">“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were ib1v6 angry under knitted brows. “What are zu4lnibv6 b1v6 you bothering about?” he u4lnib16 said. </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 9px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
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<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p>“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I lnib1v6 expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at ib1v6 once, but still u4lnib16 with b1v6 timidity asked: “We haven’t got any b1v6 candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 11px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left"></p>
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<p align="center" style="font: 10px;">isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling zu4lnibv6 his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy ib1v6 us zu4lnibv6 zu4lnibv6 some, Father? Shall 1v6 you?” </p>
<BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="center">“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo ib1v6 to his mouth and blowing a few zu4lnibv6 piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles ib1v6 — blue 1v6 ones and red </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="center"></p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL nib1v6 you?” she insisted b1v6 desperately. She b1v6 wisely mistrusted his vagueness. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, nib1v6 shrill, brilliant. He lnib1v6 was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went b1v6 out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music u4lnib16 seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man b1v6 went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. lnib1v6 In the frosty evening the lnib1v6 sound carried. </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 7px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 11px;">
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and zu4lnibv6 .</p>
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