‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun. ’ ‘I am relieved to hear it. 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. In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room.
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