" "There it is;" replied the other, tossing him the glove. “What was that?” she asked sharply. “Ask me nothing. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. It ought not to be much. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance.
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