“John. Lad, I admire you even in your folly. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. And you know all about that shot. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face. Her little white hand stole across the table. 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. federal laws and your state's laws.
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