’ ‘People are silly. While there's life there's hope. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. She looked in the rear-view mirror. ’ He grimaced. Whatever those rights may be, whoever I am, my heart is yours.
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