P. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. Then with an indescribable relief her feet were on the pavement, and she was being urged along by two policemen, who were gripping her wrists in an irresistible expert manner. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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