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‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door. ” Michelle squinted conspiratorially. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me.
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