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 smallest will do for me quite well. ‘You seem to understand the gentry very well. ‘You see, it is that I am a female, and you all are men.
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