I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. Just as he completed this operation, the file broke. 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. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended.
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