His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. "The Dawn Pearl," he said. "There won't be much left for you," he said. Both of them. 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. We're to be given a treat to-night. “I don’t know, John. ’ He sighed.
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