’ Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist and lifted her to her feet. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. “Well, I do. 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. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. I’m a man, and I know what I mean. “All right.
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