“Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. ’ ‘But why?’ asked Melusine, astonished, and somewhat overwhelmed by the other girl’s volubility. 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. She felt terrible lying to him. The unequal battle went on.
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