" He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. 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. \"No, not really. No, don’t let me call myself that. \"No, what?\" She said. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. "Dying, Sir Rowland. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain.
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