’ The lady frowned suspiciously. The curtain rose out of the concluding bars of the overture and revealed Isolde on the prow of the barbaric ship. I used to go by the name Lucy Iovelli, which was my natural father’s surname. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Until the last few months.
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