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London, Jack, 1876-1916

"The Son of the Wolf"

She might have contrasted herself with
them, but she had never compared.
It might have been that familiarity bred contempt; however, be
that as it may, she had ultimately come to understand these
roving white men, and to weigh them.
True, her mind was dark to deliberate analysis, but she yet
possessed her woman's clarity of vision in such matters. On the
night of the slippers she had measured the bold, open admiration
of her three man-friends; and for the first time comparison had
suggested itself. It was only a foot and an ankle, but--but
comparison could not, in the nature of things, cease at that
point. She judged herself by their standards till the divinity of
her white sisters was shattered. After all, they were only women,
and why should she not exalt herself to their midst? In doing
these things she learned where she lacked and with the knowledge
of her weakness came her strength. And so mightily did she strive
that her three trainers often marveled late into the night over
the eternal mystery of woman.
In this way Thanksgiving Night drew near. At irregular intervals
Bettles sent word down from Stuart River regarding the welfare of
Young Cal.


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