She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Part 7 For a time the biological laboratory was full of healing virtue. 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.
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