“Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. “Well, hello there. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. She would compose extremely lucid and honorable explanations. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. “I want to lay all my life at your feet.
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