"I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. I don’t think that the rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we’re obliged to be friends. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. . He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. I am tired, and I want to be alone.
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