“I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. 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. You’ve got to adjust yourself to the people God has set about you. The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for.
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