Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. " "Hold!" interposed Winifred, gravely. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. I have suffered all this. You disgust me.
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