The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. Even the horns were easing into the concept and the woodwinds in the second movement were particularly well-orchestrated. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. But I dare not accept it. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. ” “Not exactly.
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