"It's the ordinary's signature, undoubtedly," replied Jack. Wood, at the top of her voice. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. 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. "It's a whale of a place.
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