The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. Are you sure what it is you want of me?” “I want you. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. There were electric and ice plants, and a great store in which one could buy anything from jewsharps to gas-engines. I mystify you; I can see that. I take the life out of men.
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