Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. Her tone was icy. She did not realize that she was offering criticisms. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. 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. . I want a walk.
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