\" \"Good night, Mom. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. " Drama. " "Then I wish you good night. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. ” He appeared to be paralyzed by abstruse acoustic calculations.
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