[Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Photoplay. I’m sorry. Fear nothing. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. \"Didn't have any,\" replied Shari. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack's reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females.
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