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. "I was only commenting. The cheating of the boys in the stores ceased. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. . Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. In fact, one of them was downright sceptical.
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