He watched her, savoring her curious attention. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. “You’re still,” he said, “in the educational years. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. Her eyes where glassy and shining. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse. If he recovers he may not accuse her.
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