The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. ‘Yes, miss.
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