” The three men, who had arrived within a minute or two of one another, received her little speech in dead silence. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. "But I can guess what it's for. ” He paused. 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. Gentlemen,—Mr.
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