“You were born for great things,” he said huskily. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse.
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