The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. "Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. ‘I do not see at all. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. Good-bye, Anna!” Annabel sprang up. ’ Fury rippled again.
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