" "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. It was neither good nor bad. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way.
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