“What do we want? What is the goal?” asked Ann Veronica. ” “You remembered. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. 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. “And, you know, you’re altering us all. “It’s my fault. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick.
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