’ Bitterness rose up as he looked at the female. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage. He would always be her friend, too.
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