Such stories were increasingly heard in English society. “But how can you?” asked Constance. 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. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. “For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. ’ ‘Pah!’ ‘Precisely. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy.
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