To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. 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. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. ’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action.
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