Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that evening. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. She would lure him, as he was an easily tempted child predator who could even more easily be turned into prey. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. We all get deceived sometimes.
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