” Anna disappeared, but Ennison did not trouble either the cigarettes or the magazines. How dreary it all looks. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. 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. . ” She said, ignoring the absurdity of her own statement. “You did a great job on my concerto today.
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