’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug. 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. I’ve got to stay at home and remain in a state of suspended animation. She heard their feet and muffled voices. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone.
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