And that happens through our maternity; it’s our very importance that degrades us. 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. I know where everything valuable is kept. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. ’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested.
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