" Trenchard took up a pen. "I knew it. ’ ‘You, perhaps?’ she flung at him furiously, stepping out from behind the desk. If only we are not divided. It can wait a bit longer. When you send for me I shall come back. 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 almost incredible.
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