She calmed herself, breathing deeply. Suddenly she understood. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. Now you will learn the result. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. And then I'll pay off old scores. 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. My thanks, by the by. Mike was drinking a cup of black coffee. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. Strange gurgle-like noises emanated from the crypt. It is really amusing.
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