‘It did not seem to me that it was so. Lad, I admire you even in your folly. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now. You see, I kidnapped poor Jack and made him promise to send me word if you went careering off anywhere. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. 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.
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