What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia. 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 have not considered the advantages. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront his assailants. Babies and females have got to keep hold of somebody or go under—anyhow, for the next few generations. He looked at her reproachfully.
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