"I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. 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. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. The next hour makes, or mars you for ever. ’ ‘What?’ gasped Gerald, shocked.
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