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. ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge. " "Indeed!" exclaimed the knight, in astonishment. It's your eagerness that bothers me.
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