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. Hugging him in the beautiful dress in front of the teenagers was strangely soothing to her. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. . She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. The girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the window.
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