He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. She told him the story of her parents, her marriage to Iovelli, the loss of her baby, the kidnapping after the miscarriage. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand.
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