She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. Martha had the square look of solid English citizenry, which was not deceiving. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. He hadn't played fair. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded.
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