Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. “Yes. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. It is so that I may marry an Englishman. 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.
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