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. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. But when she saw the car, her body filled with dread, for it gave her a bad feeling. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative.
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