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. Ann Veronica halted a pace, and Miss Klegg came alongside. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. ‘Very well, then.
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