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. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. "If I thought he lived——" observed Wood.
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