The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. You are necessary to me. ’ ‘Ah yes. ’ ‘But it’s my affair, Melusine. ” She glanced into his blue eyes wearily. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes.
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