“I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her. Besides, it is all reversed now, you know. 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. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. .
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