“And I’m not happy. I want you to think of me just as if I was a man, and quite outside marriage altogether. I'm a stickler about clothes and clean chins. ’ The couple on the sofa stared at her blankly. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Presently she woke up to the fact that there was a considerable group of interests called being in love and getting married, with certain attractive and amusing subsidiary developments, such as flirtation and “being interested” in people of the opposite sex. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. " "But Wild still lives," cried Wood. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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