“What are you doing?” He cried. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. The manager, however, who stood in the wings, nodded to her to proceed, and the orchestra commenced the first few bars of the music. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. "Besides, lad, even an advertisement of a cough-drop is something to read. Why? Here was a curtain indeed.
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