"Leave him to me," he said. He was profoundly stirred. 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. He seemed to have expected them. Acknowledge your faults. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it.
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