I don’t believe in the faults. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. To stop her, Sebastian slapped her face and nearly dislocated her jaw. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. “I could not have stayed in Paris and waited for news. ” Resigned, she rosined the bow and tightened the loose strings. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that.
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