“You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. She had better escape if she can. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. She felt sleepy and unusually irritable. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. The general propositions of Socialism, for example, struck her as admirable, but she certainly did not extend her admiration to any of its exponents. I’m okay.
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