” He stopped and said earnestly: “It is the chief thing in life, and everything else goes down before it. 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. Then the work is optional; they go on their own. "You open it, Ruth. Yet he stays. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. I cannot turn into a bat.
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