She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. It seemed at this moment, however, that there was not going to be any “fun”, and Captain Roding said so. 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.
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