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It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. 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. ‘Gammon. But it is the truth. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. They order me to get my man, and I get him. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. ” He seemed to be elaborating ideas as he talked. The times were such that, with the opinions he entertained, he could not remain idle. But, holy smoke!—the Yale spirit in….
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