"Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. 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. Those were dreams. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. " "Unconsciously, perhaps," replied Thames. Sir John stood upon the threshold. ” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried.
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