Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. She interrupted.
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