’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. 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. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. Thames Darrell, I've said, is at Mr. Ramage. I might forgive him that, for he obviously taught her a good deal that she has found useful.
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