"How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. 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. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. Earles said persuasively. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill.
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