A Madame Valade and her husband. ’ Melusine’s eyes misted. She’s a snob. ’ ‘What about this Leonardo fellow?’ Hilary asked, still frowning heavily. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue.
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