No matter. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. You wish another name? Eh bien. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. 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.
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