He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. A wedding procession turned the corner. It is like a second honeymoon. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum. 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.
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