‘Oh, peste. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. 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. Gerald sighed. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. "To the world's end," answered Jack, darting after him.
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