The inn was a military haunt. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. 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. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. ’ Emile’s eyes blazed.
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