He then unlocked a cabinet, opened a secret drawer, and, lifter ransacking its contents, discovered a paper he was in search of, and a glove. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. If I had been quite quiet and white and dignified, wouldn’t it have been different? Would he have dared?. “No. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. His sister followed. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot.
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