Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. . "The doctor said something about that. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. 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. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe.
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