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. Consternation gripped him. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. “John.
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