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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. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. The rumor mills churned with the news that he harbored for her no ill will, but was simply too busy in his life to have a girlfriend that wasn’t “serious”. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared. " "Well, so long as he gets on his feet in the end.
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