Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster. "An hour hence, I shall return with the priest," replied Jonathan, striding towards the door. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. 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!” he exclaimed hoarsely. "Don't stir," replied Jack. . Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. It worked.
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