Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ‘You will take the place of André?’ ‘Exactly so. “Why not?” he exclaimed. “One doesn’t wait,” said Ann Veronica. “I certainly knew him no better than you. I hope this is all.
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