She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. 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. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. He can't be far off. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. “To my chagrin, I have.
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