Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. Sheppard, struggling to get free. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. 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. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. The truth was impossible, indecent. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate.
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