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. “Who on earth did you study violin with?” Michelle jumped in. Jonathan threw open the street-door. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve.
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