"And I want to thank you, too," supplemented Ruth. ‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil. "Let us hope that, like her who 'loved much,' her sins are forgiven her. 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. Now lend me your own hand. ” “But how can I help it? How can I keep silence?” “Please!” she insisted. I did not know what I was saying.
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