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. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. ” She turned and looked at him. I keep on thinking of you. It was necessary to think, and think quickly. Do sit down, dear boy. . Clearing the recess the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key. .
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