Attempts were made upon the door of the Lodge; but it was too strong to be forced. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ’ Gerald eyed her. She went from period to period exactly as she would have read prose; so that sense and music were equally balanced. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. ” “Don’t be foolish,” he said sharply.
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