A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. Wood fancied he recognised. "We shall all be murdered. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. Mrs. Teddy was the hatless young man who had turned Ann Veronica aside from the Avenue two days before. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him.
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