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. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. Mind, I am anticipating events. This was enough for the poor widow. ” His father interjected. They all balk because there aren't any petticoats. My heart fails me. Shari was snoring soundly. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. “It sounds too ridiculous. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. ” She smiled artificially as she scanned the audience and located John.
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