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 say there are spots on the sun. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. “Hello, Teddy!” she answered.
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