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 might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone. ’ He paused, but Melusine caught the inference.
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