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So, let's think no more about it. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. 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. "You won't refuse it, Mr. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. "He ought to do, seeing that he served his apprenticeship in it to Mr.
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