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. He’ll survive. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. Sheppard, fleeing from him to the farthest corner of the room. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. "I thought you were asleep.
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