The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. I can understand now these newspapers when they talk of your magnificent philanthropy. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him.
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