’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. But Gerald kept to a casual note. E. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. I knew it.
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