’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. I might utter a million, and still I doubt if I could make you understand. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. 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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