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. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. " "No," answered the ruffian, moodily.
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