He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. The movie droned on, the sounds becoming manageable except for the frequent high-pitched screams of young girls when a poltergeist manifestation would leap out of a shadow. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. “I did not recognize him,” Anna answered. “Before I heard much Wagnerian music I heard enthusiastic descriptions of it from a mistress I didn’t like at school.
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