You are more in my power than I am in yours. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. We remember it. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood.
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