“You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. He destroyed her clumsily made dolls whenever he found them. 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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