Was it the memory of some village home that these chords had awakened?
"Willingly, dear uncle," replied she, striking the chords as a kind of prelude.
Her fingers struck softly the chords of the music she had created.
What chords on the harp of life have been struck afar off by the arrow-words of the letter?
For seven chords strung on a shell—for a melody not even thine own!