Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. "And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance. His sister followed. There will be no more children in this house, not ever! And if anyone ever tries bringing children into our house again, I shall kill the lot of them. What about that?" "It means that drink cheats a man into telling things he ought not to. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend.
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