He noted the strong white teeth as they snipped the thread. Mischief bubbled up in her. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening. When she finished her last cadence, Carolyn and Thomas begged her to play encores.
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