“I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. She looked around her. ’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. 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. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. Three more people came to meet them at the door. It was a mad half-hour.
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