She looked in the rear-view mirror. ’ ‘Did no one know, then?’ ‘No, for the vicomte, we learned later, wrote to General Lord Charvill in pursuit of his sister. There is no other way. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. The three young men exchanged expressive glances. 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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