\"Cathy says she'll let me stay out past midnight. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. Hill was seated. ’ He sat up. The next moment he was by her side. B. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. 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 solos were revealing, sensual and moody. Befuddle yourself, if you want to. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation.
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