“Lord!” she said. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. It was for ever. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. Jonathan kept his keen eye fixed upon him, as he addressed himself for a moment to the Hollander.
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