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. Melusine, I’ve remembered something that may help you. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. Still, they bob up occasionally. It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support. His manner was deferential, even eager.
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