Or else I would have finished him. 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 dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively. \"He's good-looking.
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