The picture of her flashed across the doctor's vision magically. 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. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side.
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