Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. ” “I can’t seem to get out of chairs without flashing my brassiere to the whole of Creation. 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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