We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. "Come—the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. The stain was blood, but this was a stain that resulted from being up one’s elbows in blood! She smiled a nurse’s knowing smile.
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