” Anna looked at them for a moment with a pitiful attempt at a smile. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber.
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