The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. Kneebone said, just now. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold. During all this time, he had never quitted the iron bar, and he now grasped it with the firm determination of selling his life dearly, if he met with any opposition. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms.
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