’ Roding blinked. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. “You do not know what you say. Almost light-heartedly. 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. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. “I like you very much John. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband.
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