” He said as they parted company. ” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her. 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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