CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. This obstacle being removed, in his eagerness to proceed, he had forgotten to take his little charge with him. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. Vorsack looked pale and pink. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. .
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