I HAD to. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. “Thought so. We just want to ask her a few questions about an old murder case. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. That’s one thing clear. 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.
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