“You’ve grown out of them. " "Ah, yes; that coat. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. ” She said bitterly. 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. She had made her first fight for dignity and freedom as a grown-up and independent Person, and this was how the universe had treated her. “I’m sorry. Old Bedlam 291 IX.
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