Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. ” 182 Michelle said. Stanley poured wine. 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. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts.
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