One must be on guard. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. 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. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future.
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