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 suppose you could at least tune it for us if you know how to play. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. . I do wish you could come and dine with us some evening.
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