Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. '" "What is that?" she asked. Wood. 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. “If he is not here now I can make myself safe. “I wish I could make every woman, every girl, see this as clearly as I see it—just what the Vote means to us. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun.
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