’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. 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. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. “I wonder if you give me a thought. "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly.
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