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. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. Some few of the individuals seated at the other tables seemed to take an interest in the proceedings of Blueskin and his party, just as a bystander watches any other game; but, generally speaking, the company were too much occupied with their own concerns to pay attention to anything else. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. From none of these could Jack ascertain what had become of Thames, or learn any particulars concerning the family at Dollis Hill, or of his mother. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes.
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