’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. “I do. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. And Doctor Ralph stood by looking considerate. 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. He seemed to be about to move toward her.
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