"But, I own, I think it is like. 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. “What do we want? What is the goal?” asked Ann Veronica. He went to Harvard instead. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame.
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