A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. She looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. “Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. ” “I suppose all IS well that ends well.
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