" And, with this, he coolly re-adjusted his peruke. 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. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. “Both. You might get faint, but you can fight it. "I'll call you when you're wanted.
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