Is there anything you'd like?" "Books. You see, it's like this. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. ‘What a fate he finds for me. Look at me. 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. John said nothing.
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