She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. " Jack could stand no more. But it’s only now I’m able to do it. You've never seen a typhoon, have you?" "No. “How unkind!” she exclaimed.
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