Then blackness. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. “Oh, there’s no doubt of it! Since the girls of the eighties broke bounds and sailed away on bicycles—my young days go back to the very beginnings of that —it’s been one triumphant relaxation.
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