“I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time. With this view, he descended the hill and presently found a footpath leading to the church. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. ” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall.
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