During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. She would have to leave very soon. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Wood.
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