Martin scrutinized Lucy more closely, but Lucy could tell that Michelle’s credibility had been damaged as her stifled sobs were heard upstairs. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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