She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. When Mrs. “Hello, Teddy!” she answered. 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. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein.
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