A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. ” Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech.
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