I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. “One has to be so careful of one’s friends and acquaintances,” he remarked, by way of transition. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. She wanted to think. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. 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. I’ve bored you or something. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. Put on that new dress—the one that's all white.
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