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. "It'll ease your mind. " "Ha!" exclaimed her son, starting back, as he obeyed her, and disclosed Jonathan Wild. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. ’ Total bullshit, if you ask me. I have always hated it. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me--you seem kind of shy--but I figured maybe I could still talk you into joining our study group, it goes all year. Don't shake so.
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