A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. He looked the boy over with interest. I was perfectly satisfied with your appearance. She could not part with dignity. Such pretty manners, she thought. Things you would laugh at. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely.
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