These cogitations were interrupted by the entrance of the doctor. 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. “Morning, Mom. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being.
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