She recalled him. She could feel her face turning beet red. 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. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. ’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter.
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