I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one else to fight my battles for me. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. He talked very little and rather absently. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise.
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