John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. 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. It was then, I am sure, empty. Hope you ate light before you got here. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. " "Where did he get it?" inquired Wood, in surprise.
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