And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. 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. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris.
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