"Come along, Blueskin. John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. Sheppard, paralysed by the threat. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. “Yeah. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come.
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