” “I am frightened of Sir John,” he said, “but I suggest that we risk it. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. 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 was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. Something as yet unformulated within her kept her estranged from all these practical aspects of her beliefs. "Do you think I'd part with the sweetest morsel of revenge on those terms? No! But I'll have the secret out of you by other means. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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