’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Wood. But I forget," he added, glancing at Austin; "it's high treason to speak disrespectfully of Mr. 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. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared.
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