She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. “No. He went more easily this time. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence.
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