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They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. ’ She stopped, her lips tightening. "I do," replied Kneebone. 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. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. . “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres.
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