He resumed his listening. All this while he was arranging the medicines on the stand and jotting down his instructions on a chart sheet. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. I may tell him, at any rate, that you will see him?” “I shall like to see him,” Anna answered. “On the stage? Yes. Her thoughts took words for themselves. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled.
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