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. My own impression is that he already knows. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. His guardian angel warned Spurlock to speak carefully. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. I shall not part with you again.
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