So Mrs. " "The pianist?" "Yes. The chair is in the veranda. Sheppard, bitterly. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. In vain Wood protested his innocence. Don’t imagine that. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter.
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