The boy’s besotted. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. Anna crossed the street, and letting herself in at No. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. 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.
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