" "This way, sir. ’ With satisfaction, Gerald noted that her voice was hopelessly unsteady and drove home his advantage. Gerald reached out a hand to stop her. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin.
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