Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. 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. “Where would you like to go? Are you hungry?” “No. “I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear,” said Miss Miniver. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. It was, in fact, a group of interests quite unlike any other group, peculiar and special, and one to be thoroughly ashamed of. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. In these waters the shell has about given out.
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