Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. And she had not dressed herself in this habit of a blue so much like the sky just for his sake, no matter that Lucy had said how much this colour suited with her eyes. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away.
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