She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. ’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. The program was to include a Bach cantata, her favorite piece from Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, and for the first time ever, a student composition, a Concerto, by a precociously talented fellow student named Martin Chen. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. Mr. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. ’ He called through the library door.
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