What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. ” “Oh Jesus. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. I have suffered all this. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. "Ruth, you must not come and sit on the threshold.
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