He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. Hill lost a little of his truculency. And you, Mademoiselle Melusine, will support this claim.
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