Now he would take her away from the house before killing her, and no one would find her body at all. 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. "Have you never an out-o-the-vay corner, into vich you could shtow these troublesome warmint?" observed Abraham. "And I want to thank you, too," supplemented Ruth. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand. In an instant, she turned on him.
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