" CHAPTER XVIII. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. . It’s these damned novels. " "If he had only been my father!—McClintock!" "God didn't standardize human beings, Ruth; no grain of wheat is like another. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night.
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