They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. No doubt there’s some little mistake. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. “The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother. I may want you. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. "I'm sorry," she said.
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