She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. Then she stood up and looked around the room. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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