’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes.
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