After the dance, they went to a party. 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. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. But a man is a mixed creature. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. " He bent his head to his knees.
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