He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. So, when I tell you she loves you, I know. Moments are ages now. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes. It dealt from floor to ceiling and end to end with the Theory of the Forms of Life; the very duster by the blackboard was there to do its share in that work, the very washers in the taps; the room was more simply concentrated in aim even than a church. The last piece was Scheherazade.
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