He's down in Patagonia somewhere. 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. For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness.
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