Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. “The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother. But his grief was of short duration. Spurling had retired for the night. Bête, she told herself fiercely. my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. ! He’ll come a cropper one of these days, if you ask me. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. In this state it would have been all over with him, as, being stunned by the fall, it was some moments before he could recover himself, if another party had not unexpectedly come to his rescue. He had forgiven everybody.
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