’ ‘I think you understand me very well. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. Abruptly would come the end. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. 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. ’ So pat, thought Gerald.
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