He was detained. It’s—Mrs. 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. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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