Wood. 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. ” “But it changes things. You can’t go. Now, he had achieved them, and felt assured of success. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. You must have figured that out by now. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom.
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