F. org 1. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. 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. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. "I mean to have no one but yourself in it. I shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy.
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