For all her begging she had been given the choice to go into the nunnery and “learn how to read scrolls with the rest of God’s Spinsters” by her father, but had quickly lost interest when presented with the idea of bearing babies. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. Besides, you have so many talents, you build things. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. Will you?” She thought, and it seemed to him she had never looked so self-disciplined and deliberate and beautiful. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. “You may call anytime. Oh God! pardon me. He doesn't resemble you at all.
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