Softly she rose to her feet. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. 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. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. I do like to see old friends back here. She doesn't understand; she believes he has taken a sudden dislike to her.
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