He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. The whole incident was so unexpected that neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting. Her cheeks were aflame. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted.
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