“Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling. If he decided to watch television upstairs with his mother, she would probably retire before he did, but she was a light sleeper. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. I might forgive him that, for he obviously taught her a good deal that she has found useful. “I want to have no distractions. It was a grand life. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her.
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