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. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. But, moving through into the first of the large main rooms that led one into another around the house, with here and there an antechamber between, it was obvious that the task was not going to be easy. “I would marry your sister anyhow, under any circumstances,” he answered. ‘Come, cry a truce.
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