‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. like rabies. Melusine, intent upon preventing Gosse from securing the fallen weapon, paid no attention. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls.
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