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. Let me only wear your livery. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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