“She tried everything, and last of all she tried the stage. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. She leaned a little towards him. 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. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand.
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