‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’ asked Roding. 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. “Mary, you are so sexy. ” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. ‘No one would credit that you are three years older than I.
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