She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. If the boy did not love the girl, why the devil had he dragged her into this marriage? Spurlock was a bit shaky bodily, but his brain was functioning clearly; and, it might be added, swiftly—as the brain always acts when confronted by a perplexing riddle. 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.
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