He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. We were expecting rather to find a male antagonist. You make a game with me, imbecile. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. I only want to know the truth, and I will move heaven and earth to have it set aside. .
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