At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. 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. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. She was greatly heartened by doing this. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling.
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