Their flitting hands were always touching. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. "I will not submit to be thus interrogated," said Winifred, angrily. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. But a time will come (and that before long,) when our sex will assert its superiority; and, when we have got the upper hand, let 'em try to subdue us if they can.
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