But, you see, I’m smirched. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. 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. Taber is very ill.
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