Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. “I first saw you crossing the river Arno, after a spring rain had spoiled the day for everyone except the ducks. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. 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. "To-morrow it will be mine.
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