“Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. 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 clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her.
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