” He said. " "You terrify me," cried Mrs. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. The next hour makes, or mars you for ever. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. " Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed.
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