A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. She helped him take it off. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. He smiled complacently.
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