He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. Gianfrancesco became agitated. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. “It isn’t quite that we’re toys. 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. If they hadn't sent for me, you'd have pegged out before morning.
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