Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. For my own part, I don't see in what way it is to be accomplished, except by the payment of our customary fees. He dared not go on. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Rituals instead of medicines. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. ” “Thousands of women have married merely for freedom,” said Miss Miniver.
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