‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. You have told me that you cared. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. She would just walk out of the house and go. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him. ‘What would you do in Valade’s place?’ ‘You mean, knowing that the girl was here and liable to queer my pitch?’ ‘Precisely. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. ” “We are working for the equal citizenship of men and women,” said the tired woman.
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