’ Melusine’s eyes narrowed and she drew back. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. ’ ‘But tell,’ demanded Melusine impatiently. The evenings were dulcet and soft. Mirrors. She had even played in an opera by Verdi once, but had to dress as a boy to do it.
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