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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. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. But a woman’s life is all chance. Too much, perhaps. . ” His rhythm slowed to a grind. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. . And then she fell into a musing about Capes.
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