We fetched the doctor and the police. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. He reached for her chin and lifted it up. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights.
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