’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. She dressed quickly, pulling on white jeans and a red tee shirt. 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. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. "Have the aromatic spirits of ammonia sent to Mr.
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