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. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. It just made me mad to the boiling point. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. " And, once more enveloping himself in darkness, he pursued his course. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious.
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