One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. 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. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. Listen, Jack. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. Then she saw the bodies piled in the corner.
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