A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home. “We are so interested to hear, Miss Pellissier,” she said, “that you have been living in Paris.
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