With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. The sky periodically pummeled her with hail pellets as she would pass through the deserted intersections. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. His literary instincts began to stir. I had not been near the Royal Society since—since you disgraced me.
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