“Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. “But you must forgive me, John. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. ” “Not yet,” he said. ‘You would say that already then you love me?’ His glance was a caress and Melusine’s resolve weakened. " "You are offering your hand to me?" "Without reservations.
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