Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein. “Shhh. You must always shave and part your hair straight. ’ ‘I don’t want to think it,’ he said, and she thrilled to the savagery in his tone. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. 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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