Terrific shouts were raised by the rabble, who threatened to tear Wild in pieces if he showed himself. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard.
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