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"Of course it hasn't"
"Nothing can ot up and walked up and down the room Poor Mrs
Nevill Tyson, she had put his idea into words She had suggested that
there was a difference, and suggestion is a fatal thing to an unsteady
mind In that moment of fearful introspection he said to himself that it
was all very well for her to say there was no difference There was a
difference She was not exactly lying on a bed of roses; but in the
nature of things her lot was easier than his There was no comparison
between the man's case and the woman's He had not sunk into that
serene apathy which is nine-tenths of a woman's virtue He was not an
invalid--neither was he a saint It is not necessary to be a saint in
order to be a martyr; poor devils have their martyrdom Why could not
women realize these si
the impossible?
His face was very red when he turned round and answered "I can't talk
about it, Molly God knohat I feel"
This was the way he helped to support that little fiction of theemotions, frost-bound in an iain, and she fell asleep at the sound of the