Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. He sat down. ‘You have every right to be angry with me. Day after day for a measured hour in the lecture-theatre, with elaborate power and patience, Russell pieced together difficulty and suggestion, instance and counter-instance, in the elaborate construction of the family tree of life. 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. He'll be able to help us a little now. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. .
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