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. ” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. . It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s.
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