I want to put myself into your hands. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. I could not have committed this robbery. 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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