From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. Wood hadn't struck me. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. . My mother, I'm sure, didn't intend to hurt your feelings.
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