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. Your aunt and I have discussed all this matter. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. ” “Not exactly,” he answered nervously. “I believe that you would find her in some respects curiously altered. . It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. . “I am very much obliged for the tea,” she said. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. That is why I called myself Anna.
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