” Well, it was beyond dispute that these words did convey a certain quality of the Movements in general amid which Miss Miniver disported herself. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. It was Celeste’s idea. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. E. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly.
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