At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit. . Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance.
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