Mr. ‘She hasn’t said so, but I presume Valade had got hold of all the useful papers,’ Gerald went on. 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. “Yeah, where the hell were you? My friends would have driven you home when I came home if I could have found you. But Manning seemed more and more clearly indicated as a refuge, as security.
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