The perfume was the only one she ever used. 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. His expression became pained. "I don't know what his idea was. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. .
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