“Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. "Well, how goes it?" he asked. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. Moments are ages now. I have made up my mind to insist upon moving from here into Park Lane, or one of the Squares. It had been a trying day. ‘You imbecile. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that.
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