As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him. “Has she ever thought of buying a pair of foam earplugs?” Lucy asked. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. . 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.
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