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. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. “Those were good. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground.
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