gutenberg. Paintings sold off the walls. 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. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him.
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