In the presence of the husband of his mistress Rollo was always dignifiedly cheerful, but he never leaped or cavorted as he did when alone with Ruth. 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. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. "Will you take a guinea for it?" "Double that sum might tempt me," replied the Jew; "it's a nobleman's coat, upon my shoul!" "Here's the money," replied Jack, taking the coat. “When it comes there is no mistaking it.
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