The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. 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. Even now she was dazed. " At the door of this tavern, which was situated on the left of the street, not more than a hundred yards distant from the church, the bell of which began to toll as soon as the procession came in sight, the cart drew up, and the whole cavalcade halted. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman.
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