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. It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. I hear her coming. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence.
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