"You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. 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. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk.
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