Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. “We are clerks in the same bank. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. If you noticed, our house is fairly close to the road. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. 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 had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life.
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