CHAPTER 3
PART XXX
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER 3Visible text2 paragraphs
One day, when she came in, she heard the sound of the piano. The knocking of loose hammers on dead wires, the light, hacking clang of chords rolling like dead drum taps: Droom -- Droom, Droom-era-room.
Alone in the dusk, Mamma was playing the Hungarian March, bowing and swaying as she played.