‘She would not tell me. Of you—an angel with one wing. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. There was something holding women down, holding women back, and if it wasn’t exactly man-made law, man-made law was an aspect of it. "I've won, after all. You're a queer lad. They are our food, Lucia, nothing more. If they become bad it is through inclination, not necessity.
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