” “You know all?” “Your sister has told me. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. 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. But it's best to be on the safe side.
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