They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. "Where did you get this from?" asked Wild, greatly surprised at the result of his investigation.
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