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. “The man alone could supply any, and if he recovers sufficiently to say anything, what he would say would exonerate you. “We should get out of here. I never could.
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