You’ll never see the light of day as long as you live. Wood. You saw him? You have been to Remenham House?’ ‘Remenham House? I wish I’d been only to Remenham House. 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.
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