I keep my finger on the pulse of things. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. I’m a Socialist, Miss Stanley. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. Like a petulant child he snapped. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. He had hurt her. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword.
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