The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. 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. Stanley. " "You had better take some refreshment before you start," rejoined Wild. He was engaged in detesting Manning and himself in almost equal measure.
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