We are the species, and maternity is our game; that’s all right, but nobody wants that admitted for fear we should all catch fire, and set about fulfilling the purpose of our beings without waiting for further explanations. You're always complaining that you can't keep anybody more than three months. Seizing her hand he covered it with kisses. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room.
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