She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. ‘Possibly,’ he said. ” “You did,” Anna exclaimed. 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. It doesn't look bad, does it?" "Mercy, no! That wasn't the thought. She watched as his headlights flooded the driveway and many minutes after his car was gone.
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