“Who on earth did you study violin with?” Michelle jumped in. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. ‘Aye, miss, like a shadow. I could not become an Oracle.
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