It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. “How do you feel?” she asked. " Broken pipes littered the floor, if that can be said to be littered, which, in the first instance, was a mass of squalor and filth. Free! All the fine ecstasy, without the numbing terror. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. ’ ‘Yes, but I do not like to scrub the floor and peel the vegetables and feed the pig. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat.
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