She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. She hoped that Shari would not be too brokenhearted about her disappearance. Vorsack echoed him. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue.
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