’ She gave him a straight look. Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me. ” She shrugged her shoulders slightly. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. The two young fools laughed until they cried. Yes. 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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