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 this was important. Stanley and his sister into a taxicab, and had waved an amiable farewell from the pavement steps. Thank him, not me, man. His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the vacant chair.
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