She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. He figures them out, though. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. Here you only waste your time. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. Neither their mother nor Sebastian noticed, as certain members of the house had taken to avoiding each other.
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