’ ‘Nonsense,’ said Mrs Sindlesham loudly, casting an anxious glance upon Melusine. It was dry, as if she had powdered it. 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. She almost sprang to her feet. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. Her thick body was heavy and massive. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess.
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