She repeated this breathlessly. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. 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. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. ” “I know,” said Ann Veronica (fifteen pounds!). ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it.
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