Mike was already on dishwasher duty when John rang the doorbell. “Yes. I hung around Harvard a little when you were there. ” Courtlaw turned abruptly to Brendon. 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. It won’t even know whether to be scandalized at us or forgiving.
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