The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. 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. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. “Your affectionate “FATHER. Stanley, “I am anxious.
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