She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. Listen, you. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon. 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 never wanted to kick any one so much in my life as that second fellow.
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