I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. Suddenly he burst into wild laughter; but equally as suddenly something strangled the sound in his throat. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. It might as well be Melusine herself. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him.
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