” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. ” “You talk strangely, Anna,” he said. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame.
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