Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. 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. He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. “She means to go. Perhaps I deceived you about it.
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