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 have a few regular patients, and I take care of them in the morning. She hurried with Jack as fast as she could to the open door to the passage. Let us stay the night here. .
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