" Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. Grandmothers and grandfathers and uncles and aunts … to love and to coddle lonely little girls. “Generally gets here about seven. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. 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.
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