The doctor paced the room half a dozen times. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble. 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. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. ’ She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered.
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