“I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black. 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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