I'm about to ring for supper. Leave the room! leave the house, Sir! and enter it again at your peril. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. 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. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. Goodbye. If our young person hadn’t had the nurse part cut out, eh? She might have known more and done less.
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