It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. But, alas! Ah Cum shrugged philosophically. It is no good going into that. Dear God, what a beautiful moment!" The fire went out of Spurlock's eyes and the shadow of hopeless weariness fell upon him. . He drew a little sigh of relief. 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. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had.
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