But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. Rhea laughed and lunged for the broadsword that Sebastian had carelessly left lying on the ground. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. Mirrors. Everywhere there are limitations. 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. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it.
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