One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. "Ready!" answered Smith, shaking himself, and producing a similar pair of weapons. His voice had broken. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. Wood required little pressing. I meant to lie to you.
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