It was during Martin’s Violin Concerto that she was extraordinary. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked.
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