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. Lives by his wits and gambling. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. ‘Certainly I have them with me. “Only—I have come face to face—with something terrible, and wholly unexpected trouble.
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