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Old Bedlam 291 IX. She leaned forward and addressed him. Wood, at the top of her voice. “Thank you. I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. 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.
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