There was just time for the girl to raise her arm to chest height and draw it back before Roding seized her. It felt too good. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. “Very much as usual,” said Ramage. ” The official had no more to say. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. 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.
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