But a man’s opposition always inclined her to the suffrage side; she had a curious feeling of loyalty in seeing the more aggressive women through. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. He was beautiful despite the odd angle. I had left Paris. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. His number was unlisted and unpublished. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male.
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