Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. 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. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. ‘So it is that you have made Jacques betray me. This is your room.
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