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She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it. .
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