It’s a beautiful plant, but a tender one. 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. Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent and severe conflict. He returned the locket without comment. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter One In the quiet of an autumn afternoon, the deserted mansion slept. It reverberated in the silence. .
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