"Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs. She was practically destitute of jewellery. Pistols and pictures? Now it fair goes agin’ me nature to act rough with a lady, but you’ll come along of me at once. 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. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned.
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