" The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. “Because I hate you!” She spat. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. "Ja," replied the skipper. She recoiled. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world.
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