His arm
fell to his side. “Oh, you know,” she said. . 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. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition,
and she cried out softly. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. I was sure
you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. He
claimed me for his wife, and showed to every one a marriage certificate. ’
‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. Daily contact with actual
human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity;
of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 07-07-2024 06:34:09