[The screen, grainy black, white and sepia, shows a tiny garret room. Bare floorboards, a music stand, a bed and, on the floor, one Robert Chase tending to a broken violin.]
Of course, choose now to wear through. Now. I haven't the money for bread, and I'm wasting centimes on strings. [He releases the snapped catgut cord from the violin's
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If all music sounds like that in this city, then perhaps I will stay a little longer than I thought.
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As well earned as it is, perhaps not too much at once, eh? Was it flattery that brought you here?
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To this city? At the time I thought it was opportunity bringing me here. Time has since proved me wrong.
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