Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up. He would always be her friend, too. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. “Shut up, you little faggot.
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