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. They were hailed as celebrities, the three of them. “Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple.
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