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. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. May I be permitted, as a very old and very dear friend of your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore, to ask you one question?" "Undoubtedly," replied Winifred.
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