There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. “No you don’t!” said Ann Veronica, and walked out at a brisk and businesslike pace toward the house. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self.
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