” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. I could not have spoken to her. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one.
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