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. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge.
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