“Can Lucy and I go out for a walk?” Michelle interrupted the violin conversation petulantly. “I do wish you and your father could come to some agreement. There all the loose characters thronged, assignations were openly made, and the spectators diverted themselves with the vagaries of its miserable inhabitants. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street.
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