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. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. Parbleu, but she was a fool. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed.
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