The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. There was plenty of sweet water. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs.
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