One group at the door attracted Jack's attention, inasmuch as it was composed of several of his old acquaintances—Mr. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. Suddenly he stopped short. ’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own.
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