The palanquin is hired and so is the procession. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. “Great dears!” said Capes, as the vehicle passed out of sight. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. His frowning gaze came back to her.
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