“I had a dream in the night,” she said. It numbered nine, and four of these were women students. . Her husband was prouder of her every day. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. 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. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. That was how she projected it, and in general terms it seemed plausible and possible. Michelle walked towards the sloping Victorian stairs.
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