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. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. Do you think a jeune demoiselle may possess more weapons than this?’ ‘Most young ladies would not be in possession of any weapons,’ Gerald said tartly.
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