The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. “Stop me if there is anything you want to watch. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. Here it is. "Go and take your plunge while I attend to breakfast. 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.
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