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. ’ ‘Pah!’ scoffed Melusine. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated.
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