" "That's impossible," replied Jack. In the next place, she really had some pretensions to beauty. 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. They will claim particular attention hereafter. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall.
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