Kneebone nodded. It begins with that queer piccolo solo. You know that. In the biological laboratory that was their invincible tone. You say you need a man. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness.
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