She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. Mrs. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips.
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