She forced herself not to think of John. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. —I do not congratulate you on your success.
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