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. ‘And I am delighted to see that you are ready to admit that the Charvills—or rather the Valades—are indeed your affair. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia.
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