“And you brought her a man, I presume. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. “I refuse. 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. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. “That’s what you’re going to wear.
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