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. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. ” She replied. She still could not muster the strength to leave. But they cut it all off.
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