\"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Shari. ’ ‘I thought so,’ Gerald said with satisfaction. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. ” (Fifteen pounds. 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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