"Oh, please, Mirah--a scramble, not a touch," said Mab, in anguish, with a horrible fear of what the next thing might be: this dreadful divining personage--evidently Satan in gray trousers--might order her to sit down to the piano, and her heart was like molten wax in the midst of her. 
"Oh, please, Mirah - a scramble, not a touch," said Mab, in anguish, with a horrible fear that this dreadful divining personage might order her to sit down to the piano. 