Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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