’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and all. I had no idea. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes.
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