She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice. Earles said, “but this is rubbish. 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.
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