But she did not believe he would do that. ’ Joy rose in Melusine’s bosom. Sheppard. 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’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind.
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