Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ” “You will have to murder people and drink them up in order to live. It melted her heart. The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. “But—your people!” she gasped. But this wild scheme was speedily abandoned; and, nerved by despair, the carpenter resolved to hazard an attempt, from the execution, almost from the contemplation, of which he had hitherto shrunk.
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