G. She looked up, and recognized Mr. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. Women who Dids, and all that kind of thing. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. The expression was wholly different. She was supposed to be lifeless; but she survived the accident, though she never regained her strength. She spoke slowly. "An American.
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