All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. " "My turn comes before yours, Sir," interposed his better half. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it. " "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. I will not be sent away. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. Abruptly he gripped her wrist. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. Manning, all this sort of thing is very well as sentiment, but does it correspond with the realities? Are women truly such angelic things and men so chivalrous? You men have, I know, meant to make us Queens and Goddesses, but in practice—well, look, for example, at the stream of girls one meets going to work of a morning, round-shouldered, cheap, and underfed! They aren’t queens, and no one is treating them as queens.
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