Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. 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. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. “There is my aunt,” she said. ’ She advanced towards him. "I am come to render you a service.
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