Morningside Park had been passive and defective; all this rushed about and was active, but it was still defective. "You poor child!" said Prudence. I thought you might like to see. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her.
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