” Ann Veronica sat over her fire with her father’s note in her hand. "Mrs. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. She went to her own table and sat down. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. She looked at him curiously. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair.
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