“Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. E. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. The Oriental waterfronts were rank with the stuff. Kneebone will excuse you.
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