She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. ’ His finger came out and Melusine felt it stroke her cheek.
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