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. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table.
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