“I have not left this apartment myself. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. 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. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. I would have married her long ago, but she will not have me.
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