So, why did you slam the door in John Diedermayer's face?\" Lucy did not look at her, but cocked her head skyward. 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. ‘And if it is true that you love me, I do not know why it is that you do not kiss me again at once. " Silence. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times.
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