Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. 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. She opened her mouth and inhaled water. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. Sheppard returned no answer.
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