Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. Her back arched slightly in response. She realized in a moment what had happened. 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. The word of a Chinaman; he had given it, so he must abide.
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