I hated the stuff. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. “You doubted me?” She joked. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. My Dad doesn’t want it necessarily, but he realizes that if he doesn’t give my 185 Mom this one it’s divorce for sure. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. One transgression; he was sure of that.
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