She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. 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. His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this. " She had brought home a puppy one day.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 10:10:20