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. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. And on Monday and Tuesday she had failed to find him here. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. ’ Amusement flickered in Gerald’s breast. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. She was gathering quite a crowd in her newfound popularity, and the phenomenon was so apparent she could almost form her own harem of young boys. .
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