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. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. “It was the night you left Paris. Will you go? You'll be paid handsomely for your trouble. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art.
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