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’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. He was caressing an idea. " So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. The air was thick with feelings.
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