‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk.
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