“I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?” She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband’s back. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in.
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