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. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. I’m a little tired. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. I couldn't accept anything from you. Why did you go back to your old look? Don’t take it personally, Lucy, but sometimes you look like you are trying to dress ‘poor’ or something. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you. Loneliness. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background.
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