There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. ‘But I was not there. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. “I suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes. ” She replied informally. But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair. . 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. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping.
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