Suppose our proper place is a shrine. " "Thames!" "You seem to doubt my love," he continued,—"you seem to think that change of circumstances may produce some change in my affections. I hope that some day he'll understand how much he owes you. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. 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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