There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. "Take care of yourself, then," rejoined Thames, doubling his fists, and advancing towards him: "though my right arm's stiff, I can use it, as you'll find. "Agreed," responded the Master.
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