With an open hand, he slapped her face. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. That is why I am here. 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 must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register.
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