Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. “I want some advice,” said Ann Veronica. 235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection.
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