The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. 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. ’ He sat on the low wall of the haha and invited her to do the same. " On quitting the Lodge, Wild repaired to his own habitation.
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