We men are like children. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. She stared at his pleading face. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly.
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