” “Much better,” she agreed. " "You shall not stir a footstep. " The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her. When she awoke, she felt sick, her mouth still salty with blood. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. She had never been so disposed to agree that the position of women in the modern world is intolerable. But I don't look for peace on this side the grave.
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