” “I am Mrs. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. My death, probably. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. \"You're so strong.
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