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The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. 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. Stanley considered. Goodbye. At least one of them was caught and put away. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States.
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