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She was radiant. 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. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. Anyway, I only smoke occasionally. ’ ‘Oh, have you?’ grunted Gerald, surprising in himself a surge of some odd emotion at these words. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. ’ A derisive snort greeted this passage.
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