” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. Of course there are, millions of them. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-06-2024 14:50:07
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