“When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. “You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. ” She said, ignoring the absurdity of her own statement. 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.
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