The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. 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. No need to do such things. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. I had no idea. For she needed him.
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