"I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. 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. "Take care of your charge. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. I suppose you have come to see your granddaughter.
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