It was cheating, pitiful cheating. However, no one had discovered me, so I contrived to drag myself to my horse. 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. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night.
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