I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. The commissionaire smiled. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. I'm a bit daffy about music. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips.
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