Even the basest objects sold in the 24 roadside shops were beautiful in some way. 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. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton. She was beautiful once, Lucia. Greece was a different place. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly.
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