“It has been very kind of you to see me, but I don’t want to sit and talk and use your time any longer. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. ’ At this, the fellow Valade burst into unwise speech. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. His food lay untouched about his plate.
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