She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. " "It is, indeed," replied Mrs. I asked her to marry me, and she consented. He kissed her lightly on the lips. Lucy was silent. " "I am here in Canton," she replied, simply.
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