“Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. His statement was treated with derision. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. “You mustn’t say anything more to your mother, Michelle. Let me recommend a glass of wine. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain.
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