"When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. I went to her rooms to-night. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. You think everything is harmless and simple, and so forth. ’ ‘Yes, that is Mr Brewis Charvill, as you have found out for me. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked.
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