I'm a poor nurse. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. This morning I met him at the dock, and he wouldn't take the other fifty. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. ” She stared before her, trying to keep back a rush of tears. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. "What's the matter with the man?" demanded Wild.
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