To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. 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. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Lose no time.
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