Jackson?" said Wood, significantly. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. But, holy smoke!—the Yale spirit in…. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn.
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