"God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. And then her pace slackened. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. E. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move.
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