She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. Dutch; Pennsylvania Dutch. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay.
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