Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room. I told him I would bring him to the gallows, and I was as good as my word. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. .
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