” His walk became a jovial saunter. Ann Veronica listened thoughtfully, with her eyes on the turf, and now and then she asked a question or looked up to discuss a point. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. Of course Ruth was not aware that in this same volume there were lyrics known the world over. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. 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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