” “THE BUCKNALL MANSIONS MYSTERY. ” She finished her breakfast and strolled out across the garden with the letters still in her hand. ” “I didn’t understand—your idea of making love. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. She became angry with herself. 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. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water.
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