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. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully. “She doesn’t know. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account.
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