How perfectly charming. ‘Ha!’ uttered Captain Roding triumphantly. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. 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. “How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know. That is my real milieu, and one that I am convinced you would not only adorn but delight in.
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