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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. Instead, her husband was probably wise. Her cheeks were aflame. ” She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. “But it’s a long business.
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