" "I don't know," said the doctor, dubiously. "There's nothing in his clothes. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly.
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