“And yet I wonder whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. A bad one in a rough-and-tumble; all the water-front tricks. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. It’s not far from twilight. She struggled fiercely not to give way. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. She drank it obediently.
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