“I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. It never is. He would pick a random member of the ever-shifting household for the sake of example. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking.
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