“Who on earth did you study violin with?” Michelle jumped in. ‘Except Captain Roding,’ agreed the old lady, nodding at the butler. 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 gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. Wood laughed louder than ever. Remember that he’s not at all a bad sort, and to speak frankly, he’s your salvation.
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