. I’m sorry. She reflected before answering. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. ‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. There is light enough from the sun,’ she said, relieved. . Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy.
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