“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. I'll think no more about her. “Thousands! Ugh! And found it a worse slavery. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. You are brought here that their designs may be carried into effect with greater security. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat.
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