‘You imbecile. Only a son’s another story. I'll tell you what. I never saw a man who wasn't. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. Have the goodness to affix your name to that memorandum, Sir Rowland.
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