The unequal battle went on. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself.
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