"Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. She would not forgive me. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand.
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