‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. Byby. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. ‘You would know more of me?’ ‘I would know everything about you,’ Gerald told her, his tone at once provocative and inviting.
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