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. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Monroe would go to work and Mrs. Maggot. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow.
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