Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy.
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