. 50 \"You might mention her, but don't mention the Prom. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. I will lay them all at your feet. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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