Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. One has to train one’s self not to. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. " That was true, thought Spurlock. The Jew swallowed it at a draught. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image.
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