She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. She would have to leave very soon. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Madame shrugged. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. Sheppard, which she gratefully declined. “That’s a weird name.
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