“I killed him. 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. So I packed up and came to London next day. "All that you have been telling me, our old Kanaka cook summed up in a phrase. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said.
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