Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. 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.
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