It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. 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. "I've just recollected that my husband left a key with me, which he charged me to give you when I could find an opportunity. ’ Arrested, Melusine eyed her with interest. You’re tired, of course. There’s no logic in these things. “What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked.
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