A fever of shame ran through her being. The manager twisted his moustache. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. "Precisely. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. Here's his health likewise. See what your misconduct has deprived you of —see what you might have been. She had killed him.
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