“I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. 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. ” His lips tightened, and he frowned with solemn resolution.
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