“What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing. If you do not find your aunt, my people will take you under wing until you can stand on your own. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. “And, you know, you’re altering us all. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child.
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