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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. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley. It was a duel, you understand, and that is not permitted. I wonder what it was. He looked at her, hurt.
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