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F. ’ He glanced about and saw his quarry holding court at one end of the vast mirrored chamber. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. Very well, then. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. He just wants to get laid. ” “But if we were?” said Ann Veronica. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.

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