It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. ’ The eyes flashed momentarily. Capes was irritatingly judicial in the matter, neither absurdly against, in which case one might have smashed him, or hopelessly undecided, but tepidly sceptical. If you love me, do not allude to this subject again. One can learn and understand only by personal experience, by actual contact with the realities of life. " "And all the time you loved her?"—appalled. 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. You must let me take you to things—to meetings and things, to conferences and talks. I’m a female thing at bottom.
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