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. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. Spurlock mused over the previous night.
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