“Who can tell?” she said. Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. He may die.
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