’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. What can she have done to deserve such a fate? Oh!” They both turned round at Anna’s exclamation. 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.
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