‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. ” “Look here!” said Capes, “what on earth do you want? What do you think we can do? Don’t you know what men are, and what life is?—to come to me and talk to me like this!” “I know—something, anyhow.
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