. . ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home. And yet—I love you. " "But, man, this chap hasn't fallen soft. 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. That is not reasonable. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. "There's no outlet that way. Will you take it in to him?” The young man smiled in a superior manner. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. "Good night, Master.
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