’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. \"Yes, uh, no. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said.
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