’ Melusine rose from her chair in sudden irritation. ” “You will make me horribly conceited,” he answered. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. Mr. Too much, perhaps. There it was—to be borrowed. 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. ” “Of course you’re converted?” she said.
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