“Goodnight. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. “Don’t let them know I’m here. 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’ll make it, miss.
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