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. Leonardo had not taught her to do so. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech.
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