“What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. She had omitted that the flu had been called the Black Death and that it was a dead child that had been inside that womb, so many hundreds of years ago. But while there's life there's hope. Let me have a word with him, and you may take all the money. 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. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. "I was going to die, Hoddy!" she whispered. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. ‘That way. It’s time she knew.
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