” He closed the door partially behind himself. I don’t suppose you could tell me even the derivation of suffrage if I asked you. 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. Nothing at all. ” “But, my dear Peter!” said Miss Stanley. His spirits began to rise.
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