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. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt.
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