A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. "I can't," answered Blueskin. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. I had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person.
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