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“You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. I should only disappoint you terribly some day. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. He dug about in his mind for a term to fit her, and he came upon the word new. " "Will you do it?" persisted Blueskin. " The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth.
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