’ Melusine glared. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. But I do not need that Gérard attend. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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