She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. Section 3. Wherein she differed but little from her young sisters. Just now the waterchestnuts…. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round.
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