As you know my seed is infertile with all women, they are no more than cattle, but it was not so with my Rhea. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. "'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. "I'll call you when you're wanted.
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