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. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. I do not know how I shall get it, but I must, you understand.
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