Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions. 1. “He seems like such a nice boy. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. Wood in their favour. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. She was slowed down by the icy wind that punctuated itself in screams around houses and trees. “I never dreamt!” she said. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites.
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