She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere. Had he found the secret door? Running to the centre, she tried to judge where the knocking came from. 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. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time.
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