. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. Can you kill yourself?” He asked quietly. "Or trying to be," answered the doctor. On the way home he was still thoughtful. The hurricane had now reached its climax. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs.
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