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. You’re of age— you’re of age. Leonardo was to me nothing at all. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. Had I not known that you and your affianced bride are dearer to him than life I should have used this money to secure my own safety.
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