\" Lucy felt her face go hot, but at the same time raised her eyebrows, relaying a tacit acknowledgement of her own distressed appearance. Moving room to room it was. She must kill this man, or kill herself. Gentlemen, I am proud to say that I originated—that I directed those measures. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales.
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