Page 269 - tender-is-the-night
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Longstreet gave us last night?’
            ‘It was so-so.’
            ‘I thought it was fine—especially the Chopin.’
            ‘I thought it was so-so.’
            ‘When are you going to play for us yourself?’
            She shrugged her shoulders, as pleased at this question as
         she had been for several years.
            ‘Some time. But I only play so-so.’
            They knew that she did not play at all—she had had two
         sisters who were brilliant musicians, but she had never been
         able to learn the notes when they had been young together.
            From  the  workshop  Dick  went  to  visit  the  Eglantine
         and the Beeches. Exteriorly these houses were as cheerful
         as the others; Nicole had designed the decoration and the
         furniture on a necessary base of concealed grills and bars
         and immovable furniture. She had worked with so much
         imagination—the inventive quality, which she lacked, being
         supplied by the problem itself—that no instructed visitor
         would have dreamed that the light, graceful filagree work at
         a window was a strong, unyielding end of a tether, that the
         pieces reflecting modern tubular tendencies were stancher
         than  the  massive  creations  of  the  Edwardians—even  the
         flowers lay in iron fingers and every casual ornament and
         fixture  was  as  necessary  as  a  girder  in  a  skyscraper.  Her
         tireless eyes had made each room yield up its greatest use-
         fulness. Complimented, she referred to herself brusquely as
         a master plumber.
            For those whose compasses were not depolarized there
         seemed many odd things in these houses. Doctor Diver was

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