"You and I are both
reformers at heart."
"Me? I've done nothing, sir, not any good to anybody or anything."
"Not to Jasper Kimber?"
"You did that, sir; he says so; he says you made him."
A quick laugh passed David's lips. "Men are not made so easily. I think I
know the trowel and the mortar that built that wall! Thee will marry him,
friend?"
Her eyes burned as she looked at him. She had been eternally dispossessed
of what every woman has the right to have--one memory possessing the
elements of beauty. Even if it remain but for the moment, yet that moment
is hers by right of her sex, which is denied the wider rights of those
they love and serve. She had tasted the cup of bitterness and drunk of
the waters of sacrifice. Married life had no lure for her. She wanted
none of it. The seed of service had, however, taken root in a nature full
of fire and light and power, undisciplined and undeveloped as it was. She
wished to do something--the spirit of toil, the first habit of the life
of the poor, the natural medium for the good that may be in them, had
possession of her.
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