She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. It’s Italian. ‘Got you!’ ‘You!’ Stunned, Melusine moved quickly away from the tell-tale bookshelf. “You are making your dress?” “Such as it is. In his way he was critical.
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