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"Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. This was his humiliation as well as hers. You would not have believed me, I know well. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. ?” she asked. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature.
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