She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. It was from Brendon. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. ‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. I have it about me. His sister appeared. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. The danger you put yourself in by remaining here astounds me. I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them.
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