’ Which effectually silenced her. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast.
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