In the afternoon my brain and fingers leap to their work because you have been with me. 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. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her.
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