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. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. She asked no further questions for the moment. ’ He sighed. . The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. “Just come to that seat now you are here, Miss Stanley, and look down the other path; there’s a vista of just the common sort. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you.
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