Expiation. "I don't know what his idea was. Probably a sick man's whim. "Oh, Gemini!" she exclaimed. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. . 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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