Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. 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. And here are these places, full of contagion! “Of course, this is the real texture of life, this is what we refined secure people forget. Manning displayed distress. I am clear I want you. Here was one that subtly mocked her. . You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. She remembered Taber's hat.
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