She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. I have a new cult to teach, a new enthusiasm. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening.
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