“I believe so. It is magnificent indeed. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. This year—I’ve got it badly. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. 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. I forget.
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