In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. If it hadn’t been for Professor Russell standing up for him, they say he would have had to leave. 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. “One hardly knows—all the time.
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