She remained standing stiffly, unable even to move. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums.
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