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. ‘For that, I must conceal that I also have enjoyed the kiss. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. But you must come this way now. Most of the boys did not possess the manners that he did. She gloried in it: he needed her.
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