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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. Maggot had been brought to a termination. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. Wild will hang me. Anna found herself next Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand.
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