” He stared at her incredulously, and she laughed very softly. Leave the means to me. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. 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. \"But nothing is going to happen. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle.
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