I think that there is no better friend for a girl than a man rather older than herself. 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. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. " "En-shad-ay.
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