Her heart thudded. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. 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. ” He stared in amazement at this new aspect of the situation. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. " So saying, he left the room.
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