Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. “Dear me!” he said. "I never saw the like of you! One has to guard one's actions constantly in this wicked world, if one is a woman, young and pretty.
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