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. After we have got the Vote and are recognized as citizens, then we can come to all these other things. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. ’ ‘Yes, Hilary, do stop hustling the girl,’ put in Miss Froxfield, much to Melusine’s relief and approval.
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