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He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. " "Ah. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. \" He perked up, ready to make conversation. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. "Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed the knight, upon whom a light seemed suddenly to break. 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. .
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