" "Well, well, I'm not within a minute," rejoined the turnkey. . She moaned as his lips caressed her neck, almost to where the dress met her shoulder. The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him. 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.
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