He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. 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. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing,’ snapped Roding, with an odd look at his bride to be that Gerald could not interpret. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. Would I could purchase his apathy as easily as I can procure his assistance. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door.
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