The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. He quickly responded to her kiss and grasped her to him, kissing her deeply. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. Hurrying on, his progress was soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness, and nearly as wide as the passage.
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