“No!” “Don’t try and stop me. ’ ‘That’s easy. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave. The devil is on top, not below. 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. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes.
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