Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. It makes me want to be just everything I CAN be to you. Mr. Small blame to her. 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. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you.
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