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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. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. It hardly served his interests. The crowding impressions of the previous weeks seemed to run together directly her mind left the chaotic search for employment and came into touch again with a coherent and systematic development of ideas. This is retribution. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. I won’t even ask. He tried this sentence with expletives. ‘Aye, that she was. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. She looked and felt like a fairy princess. The lady looked them over in silence, and then pouting lips trembled, dark eyelashes fluttered, and in a broken voice, she pleaded, ‘Honoured messieurs, you will not allow this—this pig, to be thus cruel? He cannot arrest me.
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