” Michelle said sassily. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. “Well,” she admitted. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary.
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