The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. They have retired. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. “Women have been and are treated as the inferiors of men, we want to make them their equals.
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