He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared.
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