She passed inside and upstairs without a word. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. ’ A reluctant laugh escaped him. She needed to protect the baby. 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. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter.
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