" "I'm sorry. " Some order. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. This young man did not drink because he sought the false happiness that lured men to the bottle. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull.
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