‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred, rising. You and I. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. The fellow is little better than a lunatic. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. 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. She directed the orchestra to tune again. For my part, I think those shackles extremely becoming. Senior year started with a whimper. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily.
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