Manning, all this sort of thing is very well as sentiment, but does it correspond with the realities? Are women truly such angelic things and men so chivalrous? You men have, I know, meant to make us Queens and Goddesses, but in practice—well, look, for example, at the stream of girls one meets going to work of a morning, round-shouldered, cheap, and underfed! They aren’t queens, and no one is treating them as queens. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see. They must see the prisoner at the hatch. ” Her heart leaped within her as she caught that phrase. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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