" "How!" ejaculated Trenchard, starting back and drawing his sword. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. 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. Charley Pevenill was our host.
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