Spurling; "they're both here. ” She scoffed. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. 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. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. She attacked his hair resolutely. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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