"Constance—or, rather, Mrs. . She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. All her questions would have as a background the idea of future defence. “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression. He was instantly overpowered, and stretched upon the ground. 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. ’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously.
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