“My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. ” He paused for a moment, and then suddenly continued. An Englishwoman. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. “Please don’t,” she said. ” Cathy hugged her. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother.
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