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” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. I almost wish we hadn't come. The Dawn Pearl; how well they had named her! The pearl without price—his and not his! He took her arm and drew it under his; and together they went down the veranda steps.
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