‘Very well, then. . ” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed. He whispered in her ear. “Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. 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.
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