"To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. I will dedicate my books to you. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. He smiled. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. There was something holding women down, holding women back, and if it wasn’t exactly man-made law, man-made law was an aspect of it. “I suppose my levity is incorrigible. It's infernally provoking.
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