I made her my unwilling confederate. 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. I hardly see you anymore. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her life. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. It was ten feet long, a relic. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. The wards on the right were occupied by male patients, on the left by the female.
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