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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. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. \"You know what I like about guys, certain guys?\" Lucy looked in her direction again.
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