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Wood, disdainfully. "It's a mysterious transaction altogether. “You poor thing. 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. ” The detective nodded. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. I ——” He stopped short.
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