The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing. 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. On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. " "I see. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. ” She looked around for the voice around the Orchestra room, fumbling around with her books. "Fold it … under the pillow. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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