” “Very well,” Anna said. “You will have some tea?” she asked. The man was my husband. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. There isn’t.
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