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. ’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed Lucilla enthusiastically. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly.
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