Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. The man’s as obstinate as a mule. Is there any truth, do you suppose, in this rumoured marriage?” “I know nothing,” Courtlaw answered hurriedly. 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.
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