Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go. Here we go, thought Gerald. It's certain. He felt he was human wisdom prudentially interpolated. ‘I must. 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. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. She caught at the idea. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. ‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled.
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