The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. ‘Ah, Madame Joan. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her.
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