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. ” “You what?” she repeated incredulously. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. All the rest—Movements! I can live now on fourpence a day. \" She whispered back.
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