He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. "Mr. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Say, ever see any one resembling that photograph I dropped?" "So many come and go," said Ah Cum, shrugging. 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.
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