“This is the slavery of the veiled life. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. John picked it up and put it in her hands. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands.
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