She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. In the middle there was a gate.
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