“I am sure of it. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. She fled. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. He could scarcely blame her. Rhea commanded her. Nothing else matters. Still, that leaves over a million shrines short, not reckoning widows who re-marry. But be very careful not to let him know. 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. . There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably. “I don’t mean simply intensity of sensation.
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