“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. "Jonathan Wild shall find it's not easy to detain me. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Then I came to London and tried almost everything—all failures. You hear what I say, Quilt?" he added, looking at Jack. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders.
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