. . I dare say it will be chattered about for weeks. If he puts any smooth moves on you, Luce, you just tell old Mike here and I'll kick his ass!\" Mike declared, not entirely joking. 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. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it.
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