There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. " "I don't unterstand you," returned Mrs. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. God must love me, for he has guided me here. ’ ‘Some of them more pleasurable than others, I take it.
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