One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. 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. " Almost the identical words of the boy.
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