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” Anna was bewildered. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. The tension was palpable.

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