1 There was to be supper, music, cards.
2 He was awfully fond of music and sang a little.
3 A few days later he received a parcel containing his books and music.
4 They drove by the crowd, blended now into soft colours, to a music of merry bells.
5 She had been educated in a high-class convent, where she had learned French and music.
6 The two young men walked up the street without speaking, the mournful music following them.
7 The dark discreet room, their isolation, the music that still vibrated in their ears united them.
8 His liking for Mozart's music brought him sometimes to an opera or a concert: these were the only dissipations of his life.
9 The artistes talked among themselves nervously, glanced from time to time at the mirror and rolled and unrolled their music.
10 People said that she was very clever at music and a very nice girl and, moreover, that she was a believer in the language movement.
11 As the husband was often away and the daughter out giving music lessons Mr. Duffy had many opportunities of enjoying the lady's society.
12 He sent the older daughter, Kathleen, to a good convent, where she learned French and music, and afterward paid her fees at the Academy.
13 Her house had a floating population made up of tourists from Liverpool and the Isle of Man and, occasionally, artistes from the music halls.
Dubliners By James JoyceGet Context In THE BOARDING HOUSE
14 Mrs. Kearney placed her daughter's clothes and music in charge of her husband and went all over the building looking for Mr. Holohan or Mr. Fitzpatrick.
15 Some new pieces of music encumbered the music-stand in the lower room and on his shelves stood two volumes by Nietzsche: Thus Spake Zarathustra and The Gay Science.
16 He said that there was no time like the long ago and no music for him like poor old Balfe, whatever other people might say; and his eyes filled up so much with tears that he could not find what he was looking for and in the end he had to ask his wife to tell him where the corkscrew was.
17 The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness.
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