Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. I don't think. She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm. Wood, softening her asperity. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights.
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