She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. 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. Before a year has expired, you will share the same fate. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin.
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