She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. "Ninny! What did we know about Father, except when he was around the house? But where is the girl? She said something about having tea with us. I would that you were my own. She would marry him. But they did not know how good she was, how perfect she was. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. 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. You’ll end up dead, that’s what. And me, I wish to know why you have seen him.
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