The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. "Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids.
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