"Ah!" exclaimed Sir James. 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. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. Gosse had hidden himself successfully then.
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