The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty. “Indeed, I must implore you to return. She addresses you as the Flower of the Lotus, as the Resplendent Moonbeam. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. Her little white hand stole across the table. 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. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. ” “And he accepted meekly?” “Practically. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness.
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