A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. Divide the money between you, and wear the ornaments for my sake. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. There was something indeed holding the whole species back from the imaginable largeness of life. He recognised this object at once. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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