Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. 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. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. Fear nothing. ’ ‘Because you are a pig!’ retorted Melusine hotly.
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