‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. Brendon,” Anna said. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. But David Courtlaw has been here. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair.
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