Ann Veronica surveyed his sloping back for a moment, and then drew her microscope toward her. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. That added to his puzzle. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind.
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