” Her hand fell back into her lap. ” Suppose in some complex yet conceivable way women were endowed, were no longer economically and socially dependent on men. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. This man was her husband in the eyes of both God and man. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring.
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