They’re just a joyous softening of the outline—more beautiful than perfection. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ’ ‘Hang it, Melusine!’ Losing patience, Gerald seized her by the arms. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had.
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