Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction. ” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. 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. Would that a certain major might cast upon her such a look. He filled her glass with champagne. He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. Her eyes quizzed the major.
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