He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood.
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