Not like my father. 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. . ’ ‘Do you indeed?’ rejoined the old lady, twinkling at him, and urging him towards the door. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. There are two ways to go in, you understand.
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