His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. 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. Gentlemen of the Mint," added he, pointing with his truncheon towards Mrs. ” There was genuine interest in her eyes now. It is no crime, none at all.
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