4. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. 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. “That’s what you’re going to wear. "And you saw all that in your mind?" "It wasn't difficult. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. All of a sudden, there was movement behind him. G. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. And there's your liver.
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