” Suppose in some complex yet conceivable way women were endowed, were no longer economically and socially dependent on men. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. Mon cher major, Melusine began. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. He's had a hard knock somewhere; and until he is strong enough to walk, we must keep his interest away from that thought. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed.
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