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. Then the foremost bowed and passed on. Hitherto in the world’s history there had been precursors of this Progress at great intervals, voices that had spoken and ceased, but now it was all coming on together in a rush. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. “Sure. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. Wanted a clean sweep for elbowroom. ‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me. I have never wept since that day. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. ’ ‘But there is still Remenham House. This world over here! Everything's upsidedown or back-end-to.
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