He was there concealed, waiting her return. ‘Jacques, do not go!’ Jack gazed steadfastly at the floor. “The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother. "Utterly," reiterated Jack, gloomily,—"as regards all I hold dear. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so.
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