"Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. " At this allusion to his leader, a shudder passed through Blueskin's athletic frame. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. 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. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. ” “I think, Mr. .
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