’ ‘Ah yes. 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. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. "Yes … but dreadfully tired. His name was Sebastianus. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor.
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