Answering him was agonizing. . He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. 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. O'Higgins eyed it thoughtfully. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling.
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