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. “Dear John,” she whispered. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. It was not for a week or a month. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. ’ She closed her mind on the possibility of finding out, and went on, ‘But me, I have been in a war, and I have won. To tell Ruth anything, it would be necessary to tell her everything; and I cannot and you must not. I had never dreamed of such a friend as you.
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