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. You have betrayed me. He drew a little sigh of relief. I will be as silent as the grave. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. He’ll do. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. Come on.
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