She walked through the walls. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. I don’t see what you can have to say. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. “Go from me, husband!” With a flourish he brought her arms behind her and her body was slammed to the floor.
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