‘Not in the open street. ” There came a silence again. He sat down. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. 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. I am come to rescue you from Wild's violence. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration.
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