" The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men.
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