It made her hungry. Then Manning flopped back in his chair and dropped his chin like a man shot. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. “Are you with us?” said the tired woman. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position.
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