Little by little, she stopped hating him. “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. 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. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out.
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