Mrs. She ducked behind a pile of unused drywall. Look out, it’s coming. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. 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. The lady grasped it more firmly and turned it upon Hilary. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. Pull yourself together now. I spent my fair share of time in the closet.
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