“Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. The boy she had loved was gone.
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