He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. Danger, the most terrible she had ever faced, was substantially in this room. 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.
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